Evermore

by C. J. Archer

  “You’re not making much sense.”

  He splayed his fingers across his knees and studied them intently. “It comes down to the fact that I don’t want to be a lawyer.”

  “I see. Actually, no I don’t. How does your career have anything to do with me and her, Suzette?”

  “I don’t want to be a lawyer, a banker, or any other occupation acceptable to a gentleman of no means.”

  “Then what do you want to be?”

  “A country gentleman. Emily.” He met my gaze and I was struck by the raw emotions in his eyes. I hadn’t expected that. I’d expected lies and false flattery, but the rawness chipped away at the wall I’d begun to build around myself the moment I saw him enter from the balcony. “I want to return to Shropshire and my home. My land. I want to nurture it back to the way it used to be before my father let it fall into ruin. I want to farm the fields again and live off the income. The estate could be profitable if some capital were invested in it. I love that parcel of land. If you could see it at this time of year, you would love it to.”

  “So you need to marry a woman with money to invest.”

  He nodded. “The banks would not give Father a loan, and unfortunately…” He spread his fingers again. “Unfortunately your business isn’t all that profitable right now.”

  “That is quite the understatement,” I muttered. “Even if it were, I doubt it would be enough for your needs.”

  He shook his head sadly. “Suzette is an heiress to a considerable fortune. I met her recently and I will ask her to marry me once I’ve secured her affections. I was going to tell you tonight, but it seems I should have done it earlier.”

  “I’ll admit I would have preferred it. Celia too. I think she’s going to be more upset about this than I am.”

  “Oh, Emily.” He got down on his knees before me. “I adore you. I will always have a place in my heart for you.” He reached for my hand but I withdrew it. I wasn’t going to fall for any more of his lies, if indeed that’s what they were. He sat back on the chair, his movements awkward and unsure.

  “Do you love her, Theo? A lifetime is a long time to be with someone you do not love.” It was the same thing I’d said to Celia earlier, but it was just as applicable.

  “I like her very much. As to love…” He shrugged. “That may come, if she’ll have me.”

  “Does she know you have no money?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want to trick her.”

  “Isn’t pretending you love her a form of trickery?”

  “What marriage is based on love anyway? Who can afford it except the very rich?”

  He had me there. “Promise me something, Theo.”

  “Anything.” He leaned closer.

  “Be good to her for the rest of your lives together. Use her money wisely. Do not make her regret marrying you. Do not make her ashamed to be your wife.”

  He sucked in his lower lip and nodded once. He turned away and I waited as he composed himself. Finally, he looked at me again. “I’ve been imagining this moment for a few days. Dreading it. I admit that I expected some hysteria and name-calling. This reasonable response is quite unexpected and undeserved.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “A little.” He gave me a wry smile. “You don’t seem at all upset. Indeed, you seem to be more concerned for Suzette than for yourself. You truly don’t love me, do you?”

  “I don’t,” I said quietly. “I care for you, but as to love…” I shook my head.

  “You love another? Beaufort?”

  I inclined my head as tears welled. “It’s not an ideal match.”

  He spluttered a watery laugh. Through my blurry vision, I could just make out the shine in his eyes. “Well. I’m not entitled to claim an injury here, but I admit I feel wounded. I thought I loved you.” He wiped away an errant tear before it reached his cheek. “I still do.”

  “You’re right. You cannot claim an injury. You do not love me, Theo. You cannot.” I held my hand up as he began to protest. “A man who truly loves a woman would do everything in his power to be with her. He would want to marry her despite poverty.”

  He barked a bitter, harsh laugh and I thought he would storm off, offended. He did not. “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know. Instead of debating our feelings, let’s promise to part as friends.”

  We shook hands, but he did not let mine go when I tried to leave. “Goodbye, Emily Chambers.” He kissed my knuckles. “And good luck.”

  I watched him walk away. He bowed to my sister and she nodded back, her face so dark I thought she might scold him right there. But she let him go and returned to me.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said on a sigh. “I’d be much better if I could leave.”

  “Then we shall.”

  I blinked at her. “But don’t you want me to stay to meet a gentleman? Now that Theo is not available—”

  “Emily.” She faced me and gripped both my shoulders. “My dearest, you need time to overcome this disappointment.”

  “I am not all that disappointed. Truly. But I don’t want to be sifting through marriageable gentleman right now either.” I couldn’t imagine I ever would, but I didn’t tell my sister that.

  She patted my cheek. “I don’t think you are as unscathed by Mr. Hyde’s actions as you think you are.”

  My throat tightened and I lowered my head so she couldn’t see my tears. I wanted to hug her and be held by her, but we were in a public place and it wasn’t the done thing.

  “Oh, Emily.”

  “I don’t love him,” I said, dashing the tears away. “But I had decided to make a life with him. I suppose that’s why I can’t be angry at him for doing the same with that girl. He doesn’t love her, but he will be good to her, I know it. Just as I would have been a good wife to him. I had settled it in my mind. Celia, I meant what I said yesterday. Theo was going to be my ticket out of my life as a medium. I don’t want to perform anymore.”

  “I know.” She rubbed my damp cheek with her thumb. “There will be other opportunities, Em, even if it means considering options we had previously discounted. We’ll discuss it more at home. For now…” She nodded past my shoulder. “This room is no longer very private.”

  “Let’s see if Adelaide is free.” We wove through the crowds beginning to make their way into the refreshment room. The musicians were resting and the dancers thirsty. I spotted Adelaide across the room, talking to a footman. She saw us and waved us over.

  “Emily, there’s a woman here for you,” she said. “A Mrs. Stanley. She said you’d know what it’s about.”

  Mrs. Stanley! Finally. “Adelaide, I must apologize, but we have to leave.”

  “Does this have something to do with Lady Montgomery’s governess?”

  “Yes.”

  “And George’s—I mean, Mr. Culvert’s—absence?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you be all right? Will he?”

  I laid a hand on her arm. She trembled. “Everyone will be fine. Don’t worry. Go and enjoy your ball. Dance with all your admirers.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m supposed to be dancing with Bertie, but I feigned a sore foot. I had better not dance with anyone or my falsehood will be undone.” She kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Emily. Goodnight, Miss Chambers. Good luck and be careful.”

  Celia and I collected our shawls from the ladies’ dressing room and met Mrs. Stanley down in the servants’ area out of the way of the busy maids and footmen.

  “Bloody toffs,” she muttered as she stormed past us.

  Celia and I looked at each other.

  “They think I am not good enough to be seen by them up there. I am no servant. I do not have to be shoved down here with the scrapers.” This last she said loudly as we climbed the outside stairs to the street level.

  The liveried footman standing at the bottom of the main steps glared at her then bowed at Celia and I.

  “Mrs. Stanley,” I said, drawing her aw
ay before she could rant at him, “how did you fare? You have the counter curse?”

  She grunted. “I got it. Come. It is time to deliver it.”

  Celia instructed the footman to find George’s carriage in the line of coaches waiting to take their masters and mistresses home. Drivers blew into their hands to warm them and huddled in groups chatting with other drivers or footmen. We waited until one of the carriages peeled off and circled Grosvenor Square to come and collect us.

  A few moments later, we were rubbing our cold, gloved fingers together and traveling toward Mrs. Stanley’s house.

  Celia peppered her with questions all the way. Who would be there? What were Mrs. White’s qualifications? Did the counter curse have to be delivered in such a diabolical method?

  “Does she have to come?” Mrs. Stanley asked, having not answered a single question.

  “Of course!” Celia snapped.

  “I want her with me,” I said. I wanted George and Louis too, but they hadn’t returned. If they’d found the gypsies in time, they would have seen Mrs. Stanley fulfill her promise as we’d hoped and would be on their way back to London. I suddenly wished I’d told Adelaide where we were headed in case they showed up at the ball. Never mind. It would probably all be over before they arrived anyway.

  We spent the entire journey going through the words to the counter curse. I spoke them aloud over and over, learning the subtle accents and nuances of the Romany language. It had to be just right, Mrs. Stanley said. By the time we reached Price’s house, I had it committed to memory.

  “Remember,” she said as we alighted, “Mrs. Seymour—Mrs. White—thinks you are delivering the curse, although she thinks you are under the assumption that you will be speaking the words of the counter curse, which of course you will be doing.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and lifted her gaze to a window on the first floor where light edged the drawn curtain. “It is best if you do not speak to her until after the entire procedure is accomplished. You do not want to accidentally mention that I am working against her. Not to her and not to Mr. Price. It is best if he knows as little as possible. It is safer for him that way. Understand?”

  “I won’t say a thing,” I said.

  “Nor will I,” Celia said. “But I don’t like this.”

  “Then let’s get it over with.” I looped my arm through Celia’s and followed Mrs. Stanley up the staircase to the small parlor. Leviticus Price sat in his usual seat by the window. His glacial blue eyes met mine and he nodded a greeting. “Nice to see you dressed for the occasion,” he said. He did not get up, as a gentleman should, although that could have been because he was still too weak and not from poor manners. He did look exceedingly pale, his skin almost the same color as his drooping moustache and long beard. The only color in his face came from the dark shadows beneath his eyes, like semi-circular bruises. The two deaths he’d already suffered at the hands of Mrs. White had taken their toll. From the look of him, another would certainly kill him permanently.

  Mrs. White entered from an adjoining room and stopped short when she saw us. “You’re here,” she said simply. “Good. We can start right away.”

  I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her what I thought of her. This was the woman who’d killed Jacob, the woman who’d unleashed a demon and forced an evil spirit to possess my friends. She was an obsessed madwoman wrapped up in a homely package.

  I hated her.

  Celia’s arm tightened around mine as if that would stop me from speaking my mind. But she needn’t have worried. I would not jeopardize the task at hand. Not for all the anger burning within me, not for the revenge I longed to get on Mrs. White. Not for anything. Jacob’s future came first. There would be time for all of that later.

  “All will be well, Miss Chambers,” Mrs. White said in the kind voice that I’d heard so many times. “Do not be afraid.”

  “There’s been a change of plan,” Celia said, letting go of me.

  “What do you mean?” Mrs. White said.

  “Celia?” I grabbed her by the arms and shook her when she didn’t answer me. “I must go through with this.”

  “You don’t have to do anything,” she said. “I’ll do it. I’ll speak the words of the counter curse.”

  “No,” I said. “This is my task.”

  “Your sister is right,” Mrs. White said to Celia, but she looked at Mr. Price as she spoke. “Tell her, Leviticus.”

  “I’ve been up there,” he said. His voice was scratchy, raw. “Miss Chambers, it’s a confusing place, dazzling. The spirits speak to you, but you cannot yet understand them fully. She can. She will be less confused and will complete the task much faster than anyone else. I’m sure of it. The sooner she is done, the sooner she can be brought back.”

  “I want to do it,” I said to her. “I need to see Jacob for myself. I need to…to say goodbye.” That’s if he was still there.

  Celia pulled me out to the landing. Mrs. Stanley made to follow us but when she saw we weren’t leaving, she remained in the doorway where she could see us but not hear our conversation.

  “What if Mrs. White refuses to bring you back?” Celia whispered. “How can we make her if she won’t do it?”

  “She will. She wants to punish Jacob, remember? How best to do that than keep he and I apart forever? I in this realm and him…gone.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

  “Celia, I want to do it.”

  Her nostrils flared and her mouth turned down at the corners. She seemed to be battling to maintain composure. “I know. Just come back to me, Em.”

  “Oh, Celia.” I hugged her fiercely and she held me for a long time. I felt her chest heaving as she fought to control her emotions. I wasn’t sure who was comforting whom.

  “We should hurry,” Mrs. Stanley said, glancing back into the parlor. “She is growing restless. Do not worry, Miss Chambers. Together we three will make sure she brings your sister back.”

  I lay upon the sofa on Mrs. White’s instruction. I felt strangely calm. My heart beat steadily, if a little fast, and my hands were clammy inside my long, white gloves, but otherwise I felt relaxed and ready. I was going to see Jacob and end his torment. That was the greatest incentive I knew to chase away fears.

  Mrs. White opened a medical bag on the floor beside the sofa and removed a syringe. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see her fill it, nor did I want to see Celia’s reaction. She was terrified I wouldn’t come back. I understood her terror, but there was nothing I could do about it. This had to be done. I didn’t entirely trust a single person in that room except her, yet I had no choice but to go ahead.

  Besides, I wasn’t afraid of dying. If I never woke up after delivering the counter curse, I wouldn’t regret going through with it. My only regret would be leaving Celia, Cara, and Louis behind because I knew they’d be sad.

  Something cool touched my arm just below my shoulder. “Now, this will only sting for a moment,” came Mrs. White’s soothing voice. “Then you’ll drift into sleep.”

  “No!” cried Celia. “I’ve changed my mind. Stop!”

  My eyes flew open and I saw Mrs. Stanley holding my sister back. Tears streamed down Celia’s face and dripped off her chin. “It’s all right,” I said as the needle bit into my skin. I gritted my teeth so as not to wince. If Celia thought me in pain, she would do anything to stop it.

  “You have to let her go,” Mrs. Stanley said to her. “This is so important to our future. You know it is.”

  “She’ll be all right,” Mrs. White said in her calm, even voice as she concentrated on injecting me with the lethal substance. “I will see to it she’s brought back again.”

  “How can I believe you?” Celia said between her sobs. “Emily! Emily!”

  I tried to smile, but I felt too tired to do even that. My limbs grew heavy and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I welcomed sleep as it folded me into its embrace.

  “Murderer!” It was the last thing I hea
rd Celia say. The last thing I heard anyone say.

  I was drifting through a tunnel like a boat on a tide. It was dark, but a light shone up ahead. It grew brighter and brighter. I heard voices but couldn’t make out any words. I think someone called my name but I might have been mistaken. The voices grew louder. They were shouting. My name rose above them all. I recognized the speaker.

  “Jacob!”

  “Emily, go back,” he said. “Go back! You don’t belong here. It’s not your time. Go back!”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” The counter curse. I began to chant the words I’d learned in the carriage. The light swirled above my head now, a huge whirlpool of brightness. A hand reached through and I knew it was Jacob’s.

  I faltered on one of the more difficult words and suddenly lost my place in the sequence. I had to start over. There was no time to berate myself. I began the chant again just as Jacob pulled me through the pool of light. His strong arms dragged me to my feet and held me against him.

  “Hell, Emily! What are you doing here?”

  I didn’t answer him. I kept chanting.

  He cupped my face and peered into my eyes. “Counter curse?”

  I nodded.

  He kissed the top of my forehead and shouted to one of the other spirits to get ready in case the lost ones returned. I glanced around, trying to take it all in yet not break the memorized sequence of strange words. We appeared to be in an enormous room. It had walls and rows upon rows of seats like a lecture hall. Well, what did I expect? It wasn’t called the Waiting Area because it was a bath house.

  But it was virtually empty. Aside from Jacob, there were only a handful of other spirits. Some were more transparent than Jacob, others mere outlines. They all looked terribly weak and weary.

  Jacob held me as I spoke the final word. I’d done it! I’d said it perfectly, right down to the accent. I smiled up at him, relief flooding every part of me.

  “It’s over,” I said. “We’ve caught Mrs. White and now you can cross. The Otherworld is safe.”

  Jacob pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and stepped away. He doubled over as if in pain. One of the other spirits cried out and the faintest one disappeared altogether.